


lead us not into temptation

by wordslinging



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Demonic Possession, Guilt, M/M, Masturbation, Mindfuck, Pining, Praise Kink, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 04:42:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13023465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinging/pseuds/wordslinging
Summary: It's pathetic, really, how the slightest praise from Marcus makes his heart leap.





	lead us not into temptation

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I'm sorry.  
> 2) That is a lie I'm not sorry at all.  
> 3) A follow-up that hopefully fixes this is in progress.  
> 4) I will fully admit that I'm posting this now in order to be the hundredth fic posted in the show tag.  
> 5) I wasn't sure how exactly to tag for "demonic-mindfuck-facilitated masturbation and accidental voyeurism", but that's what this is, so.  
> 6) Marcus please tell this boy you love him before he gets himself in even more trouble.

It's been a long, rough day, at the end of which the demon they're fighting is not banished, but temporarily quiet. Tomas checks one last time that their charge is secure for the moment, then steps out into the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind him. He can hear running water in the bathroom down the hall; Marcus, who got the worst of the last round of clawing, spitting, and projectile vomiting, cleaning himself up a bit.

Tomas leans against the wall, trying not to think too hard about the girl he just left asleep in the room, trying not to think about the scars she's going to come out of this with. He rubs both hands over his face tiredly, then looks up as Marcus comes toward him.

"Still quiet?" Marcus asks. He's stripped to his undershirt, and not for the first time Tomas tries and fails to keep his eyes from wandering over his lean form, drinking in the sight of him.

Tomas nods. "For now."

"Do this job long enough, you learn to appreciate any lull, no matter how short," Marcus tells him. He's standing close for their shoulders to touch, for his elbow to graze Tomas's chest when he turns to look at him. "You did good work today," he says.

It's pathetic, really, how the slightest praise from Marcus makes his heart leap. It's not that he feels _un_ appreciated, exactly, but Marcus tends to show his appreciation with a smile or a hand on Tomas's shoulder, a fresh cup of coffee or letting Tomas sleep while he drives another fifty miles past where they said they'd switch off. Every little gesture means something to Tomas, but when Marcus actually _says_ it, tells Tomas he's done well or that he's glad to have him here, warmth spreads through his chest and he thinks he'd take the next five demons on solo just to hear it again.

"Thank you," he says, glancing downward.

Marcus's hand settles on the nape of his neck, warm and heavy. One step closer from either of them and they'll be right up against each other, Tomas perfectly positioned to lean his head against Marcus's shoulder. 

"I don't tell you that often enough, do I?" Marcus asks, and Tomas glances up to see a fond smile on his face, his eyes full of warmth. "I should. I couldn't ask for a better partner than you, Tomas."

"I--" Tomas is actually left speechless by that, cheeks flooding with mingled pleasure and embarrassment. He looks down again, smiling. "It's...hard to put in words how much that means to me."

The hand on his neck moves around to cup his face, Tomas's flushed cheek burning under Marcus's fingers. "Well, words are overrated sometimes."

Tomas looks up again, eyes wide, as Marcus closes the last bit of distance between them.

He reacts instinctively, mouth falling open and hands coming up to grab at whatever they can reach--one fisting in Marcus's undershirt, the other wrapping around his bicep. Marcus turns them just enough to back Tomas against the wall, his free hand curling around his hip. His mouth is hot and insistent, the long line of his body firm as he presses against Tomas.

Tomas pulls back after a few breathless moments, struggling to collect himself. "We can't--we shouldn't--" he stammers, and that's all he gets out before Marcus presses a thumb to his lips.

"Shh," he whispers, and Tomas can't summon any further protest, much as he knows he should. "It's all right."

Marcus leans in, close enough for their noses to brush, close enough for Tomas to taste his breath, but stops just short of kissing him. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?" he murmurs. "How many times I've thought about pushing you up against the nearest wall and kissing the breath out of you?"

"How long?" Tomas asks, feeling breathless enough just from his words.

"Ever since we met." Marcus dips his head for another almost-kiss, lips grazing Tomas's for just a moment. "When I had you against the wall at St. Aquinas and you looked up at me with those big eyes, I almost kissed you then. You were so beautiful I could hardly believe you were real."

Tomas _whimpers_ , grabbing desperately at the back of Marcus's head and surging up to bring their mouths together. 

Through a haze of desire, he feels Marcus work a hand between them and moans as it slides down his belly. He's briefly ashamed of how _easy_ he is--a few kisses and compliments and he's ready to let Marcus have his way with him--but the truth is, he's wanted this for so long it only took the slightest push to send him over the edge.

His fly's undone and Marcus's hand is in his jeans, wrapping around his cock. Tomas thrusts into his grip, panting against his mouth. Marcus moves his hand in firm, steady strokes, tilting his head to kiss Tomas's jawline and whisper in his ear. "That's it, beautiful boy. Just like that."

Tomas lets out a noise that's nearly a sob, those words almost enough to make him come. He's so, so close and all he can do is clutch at Marcus and work his hips and moan "Marcus, _Marcus_ \--"

"Tomas!"

Marcus in the doorway, looking at him with a mix of concern and horror--the doorway of the room Tomas thought he'd just left, where he still is, slumped against the wall. His own hand shoved down his jeans, where wet warmth is spreading. The possessed girl wide awake and grinning obscenely from the bed, inhuman eyes gleaming in triumph. 

The guilt and shame that washes over Tomas is as terrible as the ecstasy he was in a few moments ago was wonderful.

Marcus strides into the room, not looking at him. "You need to take a break," he says flatly. "Go."

"Marcus--" Tomas begins, and then halts, face burning. 

"You can't be in here right now," Marcus says, and Tomas can't decide if Marcus's refusal to meet his eyes makes this worse or if it's a relief. 

Tomas rushes out to the hallway and collapses against the wall next to the door, wiping his hand frantically on his shirt and sinking into a sitting position as his legs give out. Behind him in the room, he can hear Marcus's voice, firm and clear--but not loud enough to block out the demon's delighted giggle or the words that follow it.

"I honestly didn't think it'd be that easy to get into his head," it says. "But that boy wants so _loudly_ , Marcus. Anyone would think you're not showing him enough appreciation."

There's a hiss of holy water hitting possessed skin, and the demon breaks off in a pained snarl. Tomas buries his face in his hands, drawing a shuddery breath.

The setback in their progress against the demon is probably the bigger concern, but all he can do right now is wonder how he's ever going to look Marcus in the face again.


End file.
